


Infected

by Felceris



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:57:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felceris/pseuds/Felceris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick one shot to deal with my episode 6 promo related feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infected

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed and written while under the influence of medication. Any mistakes are entirely my own. Also, I am almost done with chapter 2 of Definitely Not Protocol, but I needed to deal with my overwhelming hysteria before I could finish it.

_Zznnnnnnnnnn._  Over the last several hours, the buzzing had rapidly increased in volume. She hadn’t told the others, but she had known for quite some time that she had contracted the same mysterious ailment that had eventually caused the death of two people. That S.H.I.E.L.D. knew of. 

Fitz suspected the unexplained illness was of extra terrestrial origin, but really they had very little facts, and a plethora of speculation. They knew the toxin was transmitted through the air, and it was of utmost importance to wear proper attire when examining the victims. Second, because of the second victim’s confused ramblings, they suspected that the victims hear some sort of buzzing noise, or voices before their deaths. Third, there did not seem to be a predictable time between exposure and death.

It was the buzzing that told Jemma she was going to die. It had started a few hours after examining the first victim. Initially she had attributed it to being overly stressed and tired. They had been working virtually non-stop to discover anything they could from the deceased.  Her head was a bit cloudy, the low buzzing in her ears distracting her from her work.

The buzzing had increased to an almost unbearable noise, overwhelming Jemma. But worse than the buzzing, were the whispers. Jemma lived in fear of the whispers. They had started soon after the buzzing. First the whispers targeted Jemma’s self esteem. They aimed to hurt her, to break her.

_“You are weak.” “Coward.” “Run, little girl, run.” “Nobody will love you.”_

_“ **He**  will never love you.”_

As the buzzing sounds worsened, so did the whispers.

_“Kill them.”  “Hurt them.” “Kill them all.”_

 Jemma knew that it would only get worse. Her entire being felt raw and weakened, like an open sore. Her head pulsed with the buzzing, and  _oh god_ , the whispers. The whispers scraped against the inside of her skull, begging her to hurt those around her. And the worst part was, in the midst of it, she almost wanted to give in. Because maybe then Jemma would be able to finally breathe again. Maybe then the whispers would stop, and the buzzing would end. Maybe then she wouldn’t hurt so much.

But Jemma would never give in. She loved her team. Every one of them meant something to her. They had become a family. Her family.  _Kill them_ , the voices screeched at her.

“Stop. Stop, please, stop,” Jemma pleaded. Coulson. Skye. Melinda. Fitz. And Grant. Sweet, sweet Grant. Grant, who did everything he could to protect his team. To protect her. Her Grant. He would never know how she truly felt for him.  _He will never love you,_ the voices said.  _Kill him._

“No!” Jemma screamed. “I will not!” She knew what she had to do. From the beginning she had suspected. It became clearer the louder the buzzing became. They still had no idea what was causing the illness. They had no clue as to how to cure those infected.

There was no more time. She couldn’t risk infecting the others. She couldn’t risk hurting them. Looking into the mirror of the lavatory, Jemma didn’t recognize herself. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen. And she could swear for a moment, just a moment, she saw a flicker in her eyes. Something…inhuman was staring back at her for one moment. But she blinked, and it was just her again. Just Jemma.  _Worthless,_ the voices hissed.  _Yes,_  Jemma thought,  _it’s time._

She straightened her shoulders, replaced her protective mask, and gathered her resolve. As she entered the lab, she noticed Fitz immersed in his work, chattering to Grant at his shoulders. Jemma swallowed the lump in her throat. She took note of her wonderful lab. It was a place that had been her home for so many months. At her station, Jemma removed a small notebook and tape recorder from the pocket of her protective suit. Her notes would be of value to the team. After all, they would now have a complete timeline. Infection to death, victim: Jemma Simmons.

 With a quick glance back at Fitz and Grant, she strode towards the rear of the lab. Towards the doors, and the cargo bay.  Grant looked over his shoulder, making eye contact. Time seemed to slow to a halt. His brow furrowed behind the glass of his protective mask. He opened his mouth to speak, and Jemma ran the last few steps to the doors. They opened for her, and as soon as she crossed the threshold, Jemma pressed the conveniently placed button to put the lab in lockdown. 

 “Jemma!” Grant pounded on the doors, Fitz right behind him. “What are you doing?” Fitz asked.

 Jemma stepped back, and stared at the most important people in her life. She removed her mask, dropping it to the floor.

 “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She stumbled over the words, her voice wavering. “You see, I’ve been infected.” She was helpless to stop the tears sliding down her face. Grant and Fitz pounded their fists against the lab doors.  “They won’t open. Not until the others release you from quarantine.” She smiled a small, sad smile.

 “I’m sorry I had to lock you in, but I couldn’t have you stopping me.” Jemma pulled the lever to open the cargo doors.  The wind whipped around her and almost pulled Jemma off her feet. The men yelled louder, banging against the reinforced glass doors helplessly. Grant turned away, and it was only Fitz. Fitz and Simmons, as it always had been. “I’ve left my notes for you. You should have everything you need to figure this out, Leo. A complete case view, without the risk of infection. Everything.”

 Suddenly Grant was there again, smashing a chair into the glass. Jemma worried that it might actually break under the sheer for of Grant Ward’s will. “Take care of Fitz, will you, Agent Ward?” Jemma asked him. He swung the chair into the doors, again and again.

 Jemma turned, the tears rolling down her face. She couldn’t look at him anymore. She wanted so badly to tell him how much she had come to mean to her. How much she loved him.  She faced the open sky, and stepped towards the open hatch.

 She could hear Fitz and Grant yelling at her to open the door. She could hear the alarms from within the main part of the bus. Coulson and the others would arrive soon. She couldn’t take any more time. She couldn’t risk it.

 She heard the glass cracking. Shattering. Fitz calling out to her. Footsteps behind her. And for a second, she could have sworn she felt a hand grazing across her back, grasping for her hair. Everything would be okay. She had protected her family. They would be okay. Then, Jemma felt nothing at all.

 She didn’t hear Fitz wailing, mourning the loss of his best friend, his sister. She didn’t see she look of abject misery on Grant’s face as he kneeled next to the open hanger, his hand still reaching out for her, broken glass splintered across his face and arms. She didn’t hear the sound that he made when he realized he was too late to save her. She didn’t hear the three little words that Grant Ward whispered into the wind of the open hanger.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you thought!


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